


Pearling in the Orient

by whaleofatime



Category: Free!
Genre: Iwatobi White Day 2014, M/M, Penang, Travel, University age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 21:12:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1443073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whaleofatime/pseuds/whaleofatime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto and Rin go on holiday to Southeast Asia and it is exactly as full of too much good food and too warm affection as holidays always should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pearling in the Orient

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alata/gifts).



When university students decide on a holiday, it’s often dependent on a combination of a great many factors: how much money does everyone have? How much of a hassle is it going to be to get a visa while neck-deep in exams? Is it okay to not work morning to night over summer to get some extra cash in the pocket? That sort of thing. It’s a big deal, especially for young ladies and gentlemen striving to find independence from their parents for the first time in ever.

 

Unfortunately for Rin, he has to deal with all of that, plus the additional semi-hysterical concern of Can I afford to take a week off of training?! (A perfect body requiem).

 

Thankfully, between Makoto’s coaxing smiles and the overwhelmingly capable lady working the travel section of their university’s co-op, they manage to win him over to the concept that a break would do his body and his brain some good, what with the exams for the end of the spring term finally over.

 

What tipped the scale had been Makoto’s clear interest in going on holiday with his _boyfriend_ (lord aloud the day Rin can stop having any sort of shameful reaction to hearing that is probably the day he’s a pile of ash and the cremation’s just burned the romantic out of him for good) and the lady tipping her glasses up so they caught the light and hid her eyes as she brandished a special one-day deal for free seats on a budget airline, so all they needed to do was cover taxes and fuel surcharges and stuff.

 

The universe was saying Go, so Rin gets going.

 

-

 

And it is fuckin’ _awesome_. Going exploring in a country he’d barely known existed before, Makoto in tow looking equal parts alarmed and euphoric, hell, this is almost more fun than winning at swimming. Rin fiddles with the brim of his cap, turning down the handkerchief Makoto holds out to him. He’s a sweaty mess, but with the humidity level hovering at ninety per cent and the sun beating down on them roasting the air to a hazy-hot 30 something degrees, he _wants_ to sweat.

 

It’s part of the experience of coming to the Pearl of the Orient in the dry season, he’s been assured. Rin’s fully ready to get heat stroked and sun burned and all that jazz; holidays are meant to be full of new experiences, and this isn’t Australia and he’s got Makoto.

 

Penang, Malaysia, a snazzy little island in Southeast Asia, famous for its cuisine and beaches. They checked into the hotel an hour ago (check-in was at 11! In the morning! Anything before 2 PM back in Japan was pretty much treated as an act of martyrdom on behalf of the hotel, and even Rin couldn’t stop himself from looking as shocked as Makoto), had taken a shower (together, because everyone’s got to pitch in to save the environment, right) and gone straight out.

 

They’re only here for five days, and Rin wants to feel it all. Can’t hold hands in public here (probably the only point in Australia’s favour), but it’s mostly the same back home so the way to show his affection on this, their most private and epic of dates, is with little gestures.

 

Happily, many of the islanders could speak perfectly decent English. Rin’s Australian accent is a little jarring even to his own ears compared to the sing-song accent of the locals, but it works and with Makoto taking a million billion pictures outside he gets them both a drink from a local stall, asking for something cold and getting two bags (bags! Of drinks! From a café! What is even going on this is _grand_ ) of what looks like ice lemon tea, handily with straws stabbed in through the top gap and little handles to hold on to.

 

They can’t hold hands, but Rin can press the cool bag of tea to the side of Makoto’s too-warm cheek, and there's a flash of deep-rooted affection in green eyes and Rin flashes his teeth and they carry on with their free-style wandering of the little island.

 

-

 

Okay, maybe not so little. The city-centre is no Tokyo, but it’s pretty big for two boys on foot, taking their sweet time being the most obvious tourists in the world. Locals on trishaws honk their horns and call out greetings in up to four broken languages, trying to seduce them to fit two to a trishaw, each decorated more garishly than the last. Rin is sorely tempted when one in particular is cycled up by them, with seats covered in leopard-print vinyl, decked with fake flowers , little bells, and some weird bouquet of optic cables that got lit up different colours by the vase they were jammed in, stuck precariously midway on the trishaw handlebars.

 

Makoto had taken a picture, and then almost laughed himself sick. “You sure do like the eye-catching stuff, huh, Rin?”

 

Rin was affronted at first, and scowled. Then he thought better of it, and grinned instead. “No shit, Sherlock. I’m with you, after all.”

 

The cheesy line did its work (very few lines didn’t work on Makoto, to be fair). Makoto flushed a heady red before smiling his the-world-is-a-wonderful-place smile that could charm a rock. “What a way to win me over, Rin. I’m so loved.” And he laughs, not at Rin’s sentiment, but in the easy comfortable pleasure that seems to come so easily to Makoto.

 

This affection is overheating him to a shameful extent, so Rin clears his throat and looks around for something to distract themselves with.

 

Welcome, wayward sons, to little India. Across the road is a string of shops with beautiful brilliantly-coloured fabrics, and even from here there’s a slight whiff of incense and Mystery. Declining to tease Makoto any further, Rin instead grabs his elbow and leads him on.

 

They end up with casual (but traditional) Indian wear for every female member of their respective families, in soft cotton and colours that range from dark forest greens to electric-blue shot through with silver threads (young boys usually can’t be counted upon for tastefulness in clothes for women.)

 

(That said, there’s no way Gou’s going to look anything other than freakin’ A++ in a turmeric-yellow salwar khameez with embroidered gold flowers).

 

(Makoto haltingly trying to pronounce salwar khameez will live on in memory as one of the highlights of the trip, and it’s only day one.)

 

-

 

Day two, and the mister at the reception had drawn their attention to the temple of the Goddess of Mercy, Kek Lok Si. It’s supposedly terrifically scenic, set as it is into the side of a hill near the mountainous centre of the island, overlooking the city and the shore.

 

You don’t need to say much to convince Rin. Goddess of Mercy? He’s not super religious, but a picture of Her Eminence and Makoto side-by-side will probably be enough goodness to see him through the rest of his life.

 

They take a bus, and get off at approximately the right place, thanks mostly to Makoto conscientiously reading out the names of places (handily written in Roman characters, whew) and shaking a dozing Rin awake once he sees the stop with the name he’d written on his little notepad.

 

They stumble out, and following the sage advice in Makoto’s possession gifted to him by his mum, instead of asking around for directions they follow the motions of the crowd. It leads them down a tiny side-alley, into a complex of raggedy stalls selling touristy crap, ascending ever uphill. It felt like they were abjectly lost, until they reached a pond full of turtles, the classic symbol of wealth, longevity, and general excellence.

 

It’s not all fun and games. There are wild dogs running up and down the hilly street, which worries Rin (what if they get rabies on his watch?!) and there are beggars every once in a while, all of whom do a great job of making Makoto a little sad.

 

Still, though, sipping their bright green sugarcane juice bought before the entrance, they somehow manage to get all the way to the top, where a giaaaaaaaaant bronze statue of the Goddess of Mercy looks down on the rest of the island, high atop her perch in the hill, helped along by her incredible stature.

 

The view is beautiful, the sea a sparkling blue, the city small and multi-coloured and higgledy-piggledy, the way old cities tend to be. 

 

The breeze is strong, this high up, though by no means cooling (they’re closer to the sun, maybe that’s why). Rin takes off his cap so that his sweat-damp hair can dry a little, and takes a personal break to look at Makoto burning incense, clapping his hands together, and praying near the feet of the Grand Lady.

 

Makoto repeats it a few times, dropping coins into a donation box before he takes each stick of incense. He prays and prays and prays, and Rin wonders idly who he’s praying for. The dead? The living? Haru, his family, that’s for sure.

 

How about the longevity of his and Rin’s little whole-hearted love affair? Can’t know for sure without asking, and Rin’s got no plans to ask. It’s a bit of fear, but it’s also a lot of trust. He doesn’t need to, not really. Sure, he’s not got the telepathy thing Makoto and Haruka have been perfecting since they’d first met, but when Makoto’s done sending his wishes up to the heavens along with the curling smoke from his smouldering joss sticks and turns to head back towards Rin, it’s hard to doubt Makoto’s affection.

 

There’s more warmth in the gentle crinkle of those gently drooping eyes than there could be in a 15-hour marathon session of romcoms, after all. Rin might well speak from experience.

 

The Lady is a very tall lady. They spend a whole lot of time almost kneeling on the ground, tilting the camera almost straight up to get a selfie of both their grinning faces, as well as Her serene, beguiling smile.

 

(It looks ridiculous. It will become the screensaver on both their phones for many months to come.).

 

-

 

Day three is rest and relaxation day. They hit _the hell_ out of the beach.

 

It’s not as pristine as Iwatobi, and the number of people at the beach is astonishingly huge. Happily, Makoto is a man who deeply enjoys having fun in the vicinity of other people having fun, and Rin’s not a water fanatic (unlike certain peoples coughHarucough) so the fact that the water is a little murky and the children are a little screamy doesn’t matter much.

 

The sea is _incredibly_ salty, though. A shaving cut on his cheek gets splashed by a passing child and Rin keenly feels the burn. Makoto dares not put his head under water, for fear that the salt corrodes his contacts, or something.

 

(He’s got other fears too, which is why they don’t go deeper than about chest high, and why whenever a particularly tall wave comes to break at them even before Makoto can instinctively reach for him Rin’s already grabbing his hand and squeezing, pretty glad for the opacity of the water).

 

They lazily float around, get buoyed by the waves, get creeped out by the feel of unseen seaweed brushing against their feet. Makoto charms any lady with a child in tow, even if the language barrier is a mighty one. The water is comfortably cool in contrast to the beating sun, and after a while they have a good time just lying back on the sand, feeling the water lap at their feet.

 

They’re there almost until sunset, the sky turning pink before blooming into a vivid orange-red. They watch from a little beachside bar, sipping German beer until it goes dark, at which point they find a recreation centre and Makoto soundly beats Rin at three rounds of pool.

 

“I think,” Makoto says thoughtfully as they’re on the bus heading back towards the city centre, “we should rent a scooter and go around the island tomorrow.”

 

Babe, I’d ride with you on an octopus roller coaster to the bottom of the sea. Rin just nods, covering a yawn with his arm, and allows the crush of people around him to cover the way he’s happily pressed-up against Makoto (who stinks of a too-salty ocean but whose face is happily devoid of any trauma or fear, the best combination) all the way home.

 

-

 

If anyone looks cute with a scooter, it’s Tachibana Makoto. The helmet is a bright cheery yellow, neatly clasped under his chin, and the scooter is black with bright purple racing stripes. It looks tiny with Makoto at the helm, and it looks like it should try harder to be more colourful when Makoto’s wearing an oversized Batik shirt hanging unbuttoned over a sleeveless top, bottom adorned with bright red broad shorts Rin had bought for him (damn right he’s dressing up his gorgey partner in his colours) a couple of years ago.

 

“Holy crap, Mako-chan. Who asked you to be this cute?” Rin can’t help but blurt out. Makoto laughs, used to sudden compliments after all these years. His is a tremendously accepting personality, after all.

 

“This is as close to couples wear with you, Rin. Sorry, but I have to draw the line at animal-print.” Makoto’s bright and cheeky grin is in stark relief, since he’s not wearing a hat to cast a shadow on it. Not that he needs a hat; where Rin burns like bacon in a pan, Makoto’s been absorbing the sunlight and turning a deeper and richer brown, day by day. He looks so majestic and so unconscious of his majesty that it’s almost heart-breaking.

 

It’s not, because it’s a good thing, and a healthy, happy Makoto is just the best sort of anything in this whole wide world. Rin jams his helmet on, climbs behind Makoto, and allows himself to be won over just a little more as they go on a ride through territory just as mysterious as a tropical Narnia, going wherever Makoto’s whim takes them.

 

(Yesterday night Makoto had asked for ‘input’ as to where to go from Rin, which is code for ‘let’s do what Rin wants’, but Rin’s not going to let his lover off that easy. Makoto’s a great man capable of making great decisions. He enjoys taking part in Makoto growing more confident in his decisions, yeah, and it helps that a decisive but kindly as ever Mako-chan is as hot as the sun’s been every day so far.)

 

The breeze, the noise of traffic, mysterious and delightful things whizzing by, it’s all terrifically interesting. ‘course, there’re not so savoury parts too, rubbish littering the streets to an extent you couldn’t even imagine seeing in Japan, beggars sitting on cardboard mats, potholes and food being served out of places that look mostly like pieces of zinc roofing leaning against walls, that sort of stuff. The public toilets they make pit stops at, those are atrocious almost to an unbearable degree, and they’ve been warned very many times to be careful against snatch thieves and pickpockets.

 

But it’s the sight of a living city, a bit grimy, maybe, but people make cities and all people are grimy. Rin’s got anger issues, Makoto’s got self-worth issues, Penang’s got safety issues, cleanliness issues.

 

Everyone’s grimy but everyone’s trying, really. As they go along a quiet stretch of road that’s cut into a cliff, dropping off into a sea littered with giant boulders, Rin digs his teeth into Makoto’s shoulder and wonders if this holiday’s broadened his mind and made him a better person.

 

Makoto reaches down to affectionately squeeze the arms Rin’s got wrapped around his chest. “It’s a nice place,” he calls out, voice carried to Rin by the wind. Rin feels Makoto’s laugh, the broad back shaking against him. When he next speaks, Makoto’s voice is gentle, idle, and full of quiet conviction. “But any place would be a nice place if we get to go together.”

 

It’s not like it’s a love confession, and much stronger words are used many nights in the privacy of their bedroom, but Makoto who takes everything so seriously taking his relationship with Rin so easily, like it’s a _given_ , ah.

 

They end up at the Botanical Gardens, and all Rin can do to show how much he really cares without using words he tends to accidentally twist is to suddenly run away from Makoto as they walk by the waterfall to go and buy the man three scoops of ice cream sandwiched in a hotdog bun.

 

Love, holidays, ice cream and bread. It’s all pretty much the same thing, if they all make you happy.

 

-

 

Day five. They spend the morning doing last minute gift shopping for everyone, before packing up and checking out. They hadn’t brought suitcases with them, opting instead for rucksacks, so it’s no problem to carry their things with them as they go off to complete the final self-assigned task.

 

That is, to stuff their faces silly with all the food that’s on offer. Every day’s been a spectacular culinary adventure, from things that look like yakitori but have a rich, herby flavor accompanied with peanut sauce, to vermicelli served in a broth made from the innards of cows, to a shaved ice dessert that is doused in black sugar syrup and coconut milk, hiding delicious green wriggly rice jelly at the bottom of the bowl. Makoto’s favourite has been barbecued fish that’s stuffed with fragrant spices; it reminds him of the best parts of delicious green curry, plus good, fresh fish. Rin’s partial to kuey teow, flat noodles cooked in chili paste, a little soupy and eggy and offering delicious morsels of steamed cockles.

 

They try out laksa, thick white noodles that taste like rice, served in a spicy-minty-fishy broth that provides too many flavours to clearly describe but not too many to enjoy.  They try out little desserts that are as varicoloured as could be; many-layered pink and white things, a creature that’s a rich nutty brown and covered with desiccated coconut, round green balls that explode with rich palm sugar in the centre. They eat rice with their hands (inexpertly) trying out most every single sort of curry on offer, and they chase it down with hot ginger milk tea.

 

They hit their limit after gorging on deep-fried flatbreds with chickpea gravy, and by then they have just enough time to grab their bags and waddle to the airport, a pair of satisfied boys. They sit in the lounge, waiting for the plane to arrive, and since they’re early their gate is mostly empty.

 

It’s enough of a justification for Rin to casually grab Makoto’s hand, twining their fingers together. They’re quiet; Rin’s learned to find the easy peace in comfortable silence, and Makoto now knows that Rin doesn’t need idle chatter as a background to his thinking.

 

Rin wants to say a great many things. Thanks for suggesting this, thanks for convincing me to come along, thanks for being so suave as a scooter driver, thanks for buying me aloe cream because I burn easier than alcohol vapour, thanks for having a killer smile, shit, just thanks for being alive and choosing to spend most of your alive time with me.

 

Makoto, Makoto’s not as wordy as Rin is. His mind is occupied with two things right now. One, how nice would it be if he never needed to let go of Rin’s hand, and two, I think I ate too much today. He laughs a little at the second thought, because a side-glance at Rin’s crinkled brow and his teeth worrying his bottom lip tells Makoto that Rin’s trying to get across his emotions and not meditating over gastrointestinal discomfort that he completely doesn’t regret.

 

Rin frowns deeper at the laugh, but mostly because he doesn’t know what to make of it. He’s no quitter, though, he’s never been good at that, and from day one of this dating affair he’s promised himself to make the things in his head clear to Makoto if to no one else. He’s got places in his mind he really doesn’t want to go to, and it helps to put to words his thoughts so that if he ever gets stuck somewhere terrible again, Mako’s got a figurative map to come fetch with. So Rin grits his teeth before slumping into his seat, squeezing Makoto’s hand. “This was really, really good. Like, _really_ good. We should do it again some time. Regularly. Every year, maybe. Just you and me and too much curry, sounds great, huh, Mako-chan?”

 

 You’re great you’re kind I love you let’s never stop being together, is what he means.

 

Makoto beams, rubbing his thumb against the back of Rin’s hand. “Sounds great. And I love you too, Rin-chan.” As he says it, he rubs Rin’s cheek with his other hand, getting the peeling sunburnt skin to come off with the gentlest of tugs.

 

Aaaaah, fuck. If this isn’t true love, nothing is. Rin settles against Makoto’s comforting shoulder and dozes off, dreaming of yearly honeymoons to everywhere from Timor Leste to Timbuktu, as Makoto looks at planes arriving and departing and thinks about how very big the world is and how very pleasant it is to be very small in it with Rin.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't know Manila was also known as the Pearl of the Orient orz If I ever get to visit there, I'll write another version because holy crap I love travel fics. In other news I moved house recently and there's a cockroach in the sink and I haven't ventured into the kitchen for two days. Someone send help (it probably won't get to me in time).


End file.
